by Lori Wick
"Let go of me, Dallas. I've got to go to my ship."
"Smokey, listen to me--" Dallas began, but the young
captain cut him off.
"No. You listen to me, Dallas." Her voice was calm, but no
one within earshot could have missed the underlying note of
steel. "I would love the luxury of sitting back and letting you
take care of me, but I'm the captain of that ship and responsible
to my men. I will go to London, and you'll not talk me out
of it."
"I'm not trying to," Dallas began again, tightening his hold
on her wrist. "I'm just asking you to wait until morning. We
can do nothing tonight."
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Smokey hesitated, and Brandon cut in.
"He's right, Smokey. It would be after midnight by the time
we arrived. I doubt if even /could see anyone of importance at
that time of the night."
Smokey stood in indecision, her heart so broken over
Darsey's arrest that she thought she might be sick.
"I need to be away before dawn," she told them.
'You realize," Brandon began, "there's a good chance you
will be arrested as well."
Smokey had not thought of that, but it changed nothing.
"I still need to leave for London before dawn."
"The carriage will be ready," Brandon promised her.
Smokey nodded When she would have thanked them and
continued up the stairs, Dallas tugged on her arm.
"Come to dinner and try to eat something."
"I have to pack."
"I imagine you'll be up most of the night. You can pack
then. You need to eat."
Standing on the first step made Smokey almost level with
Dallas, and for a moment she could only look into his eyes.
'Tell me you understand, Dallas."
"I understand completely," he said to her utter relief. "I
just didn't want you riding to London tonight with no food or
sleep."
Smokey nodded, and Dallas realized they were alone. He
stepped near, his arms going around her. Smokey needed his
closeness right now in a way she'd never needed it before.
When he would have stepped away, she wrapped her arms
around his neck, Dallas was more than happy to comply and
hugged her again, holding her firmly for some time.
"Come into the dining room, darling," he said when he
could speak. "You won't want much, but you need to eat."
Smokey agreed and startled herself by eating a fairly
decent meal. She surprised herself again after going to bed.
After praying with her whole being, she actually gained a few
hours of sleep. She woke to find Brandon good at his word
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His largest carriage, pulled by four horses, left Bracken
more than an hour before daybreak, after a tearful farewell
with Sunny. Smokey was inside, hair braided and dressed for
work Seated beside her was Dallas. Across from them was
Brandon.
The duke's face was calm, but he was a man who clearly
needed answers. Looking at his stern visage, Smokey could
almost find it in her heart to pity Haamich Wynn.
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smokey's view of the akamis from the carriage window
was one to make her heart pound. She had halfway hoped to
find that this was all a frightful mistake, but not seeing a single
familiar face, as well as the heavy guard apparent at the foot of
the gangplank, made her heart plummet.
The magnificent carriage stopped, drawing attention
from nearly everyone. Dallas alighted to give Smokey a hand
Brandon was directly behind her, but not even he could stop
the happenings of the next few minutes.
"Miss Simmons?" a voice spoke, and the three of them
turned to see a young officer approach,
"Yes, I'm Miss Simmons. Where is my crew?"
"If you'll come with me, please," the constable said, ignoring
her question.
"Where are you taking her?" Brandon spoke calmly, and
the officer looked surprised
"I'm sorry, your lordship, but Miss Simmons is under
arrest."
"And what are the charges?"
"Piracy," another, older constable came on the scene and
answered. His demeanor was that of one in control, but his
voice was respectful. "I'm afraid Miss Simmons will have to
come with us, my lord."
Dallas was ready to jump in at Smokey's defense, but
Brandon, wearing his position and power like a cape, spoke
up.
"I will be handling Miss Simmons' case myself, constable."
"Yes, sir," the other man answered, his face serious.
The younger officer stepped forward then and put a hand
on Smokey's arm to lead her away. She looked back over her
shoulder at Brandon and Dallas. Her face was a mask of numb
surprise.
Dallas shared her shock, but for just an instant. He recovered
quickly, and when he started after her, Brandon moved
his entire body to block him.
"Don't do it, Dallas," Brandon said as he, with no little
effort, held his friend against the side of the carriage.
"I can't let them take her, Hawk! Did you see her face? I've
got to do something!" Dallas' eyes were wide with panic, but
Brandon only shook his head
"You can do nothing for her right now. Your interference
would only get you arrested as well. Pray, Dallas, and trust
God to work this out. I'll do all I can to set her free."
Smokey's mind was in a mass of confusion as she was led
to a waiting carriage and then to a part of London that was new
to her. The ride seemed very brief. In no time at all, Smokey
was being led inside a huge stone structure. Her head craned
back to take it in as they moved inside, and Smokey wondered
if this was the infamous "Tower."
She was given little time to speculate, but was led immediately
inside and to a cell. There was no rough treatment and
few words spoken as she was locked inside. Smokey stood for
a long moment and just stared
The room was spacious with a large, barred window, and
Smokey was surprised at the cleanliness. It was dry and swept,
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with a cot in one corner. Smokey's relief was so great that she
moved to the room's one chair and sank gratefully down.
She started to pray, giving this nightmarish situation over
to the Lord She committed herself, Dallas, her men, and
everyone involved to her heavenly Father. She'd been praying
for the better part of two hours when she heard movement
and voices in the corridor without.
"Smokey."
Smokey stood quickly, unable to believe her ears, and
moved to look at the barred portal in the door.
"Dallas!"
"Are you all right?" His voice was anxious.
"Yes." Smokey felt breathless with relief as she stood on
tiptoe in order to be nearer the man she loved "Have you
come to get me?"
"No." Dallas' voice and eyes were pained "But Brandon is
working on it."
"All right. Have you talked to Darsey or the men?" Now
Smokey's voice was anxious.
"They're all right; just worried about you,"
Dallas replied
"They didn't hurt you?"
"No. It's not bad in here at all. It's just that I'm..." she
hesitated slightly, "a little frightened."
"No need to be," The surety of Dallas' voice calmed her.
"God is with you, and I know He's going to show us the best
way to help you."
Smokey nodded, unable to speak. Dallas' fingers were
suddenly there through the bars, and Smokey reached her
own to touch his. For just an instant they let their eyes and
fingers speak for their hearts. The next minute a voice was
heard in the corridor, and Dallas' face disappeared from view.
Before Smokey could turn away, Brandon's face appeared
beyond the bars. He spoke gently, and Smokey took his words
to heart. "Don't give up hope, Smokey. I'll do everything
within my power to set you free."
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Brandon's "everything" was something to behold Dallas
accompanied Lord Hawkesbury to the office of a private investigator,
where he paid the man a huge retainer to immediately
go to work on the case.
When they were back in the carriage, Brandon ordered his
driver to Parliament. Confidently striding into this building,
Brandon moved into offices where Dallas could not follow in
order to gain the real news of this case.
The charge against Smokey Simmons, captain of the Aramis, was piracy, and the rumors about the actual pirate
were all too true--Haamich Wynn was a free man. The problem,
as Brandon did more research, stemmed from the fact
that Haamich Wynn had an airtight alibi for every charge.
Lord Darrell Lynne had reputable witnesses, one of whom
was the prime minister himself, who had seen him at balls,
parties, and even on the streets of London each and every time
he was supposed to be attacking a ship.
By the evening of the first day, Brandon had gathered
enough conflicting information to baffle a genius. He and
Dallas retired to Brandon and Sunny's town house in the early
evening, both men feeling spent and confused
They talked over dinner and then for hours afterward
before both went to bed exhausted but peaceful. They had
formulated a plan. In the morning they would pay a visit to
Haamich Wynn.
Neither Brandon nor Dallas would have slept so soundly
had they realized that not two hours after they left Smokey,
she had a visitor. He was a fat, foul-smelling man who did not
use the main entrance to exit the Tower. Fear clawed at
Smokey's throat as she was led out of the Tower courtyard and
into a back alley to a waiting carriage.
"Where are we going?" she tried to question the man who
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seemed to be in charge, but she was simply ignored as the
carriage lurched into motion.
Ten minutes later the coach came to a halt in front of
London's Klink Prison for women; Smokey could only stare in
horror until she was commanded roughly to alight from the
carriage and go inside. The smells that assailed her senses
nearly caused her to vomit as she was led below street level to
a dark, damp cavern.
She could barely see as she was ushered forward to her
cell, but as her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she
realized that the inmates of Klink Prison were treated like
animals. Pale faces beneath layers of dirt were momentarily
illuminated as the lantern moved across their cells. The eyes
in those faces were nearly lifeless, as hopeless as Smokey had
ever seen.
Smokey was taken all the way to the cell at the end. Until
that time no one had touched her, but she suddenly found
herself pushed forward over the threshold where she heard
the door slam behind her. With just two steps she caught
herself, but started violently as a weak but irate voice spoke
from the corner.
"Put her across the way in an empty. It's my turn, and I
don't want her."
"Shut yer trap, ya old hag," the guard snarled, banging on
the bars with his stick. Smokey shrank back from both the
Jailer and her cellmate and then watched as the jailer walked
away, taking his light with him.
A few moments passed before Smokey's eyes acclimated
once again to the dark and she took in her cell, illuminated
only by a small, filthy window, some ten feet off the floor. The
cell was a square, Smokey figured perhaps eight by eight feet
in size, with two filthy straw ticks on the floor and a chamber
pot in the corner.
Her nearly skeletal cellmate lay prone on one of the ticks
and spoke when Smokey's eyes met hers.
"You'll not 'ave all that pretty flesh on yer for long," she
said in a voice weak from her surroundings as well as her age.
"How long have you been in here?" Smokey asked, although
not sure why she did.
"This time? A month, maybe two. Down 'ere, you lose
count."
Smokey suddenly felt as if her legs were going to go out
from under her. She moved to the edge of the unoccupied tick
and sank to her knees. Her pants grew immediately damp, but
she couldn't force herself to stand again.
With a shudder that ran over her entire body, she let her
shoulder fall against the damp stone wall. The old woman
appeared to be sleeping. Smokey let her own eyes slide shut,
only she didn't sleep. She silently prayed the only words that
would come to mind as her world began to close in to the
point that she thought it would suffocate her.
Help me, Father, I beg of You. Help me to believe You never
make mistakes.
"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken, my lord," the young
footman told Brandon the next morning as he and Dallas tried
to gain information from the doorman of a rather seedy club
in the heart of London.
"We have not now, nor ever, had a member by the name of
Lord Lynne." The servant's air was so superior that Brandon
wanted to laugh, but he also felt the man was telling the truth.
That day and into the next had led them to one dead end
after another in an effort to speak with Darrell Lynne. A visit to
Lord Lynne's London town house had directed them to his
club. They had gone to White's, only to come up empty, and
finally now to this club, where no one had ever heard of him
either. Brandon was beginning to wonder if the agency he had
hired was going to offer him anything more than empty leads.
He also began to wonder how many aliases the pirate had
Their choices were quickly narrowing down. Brandon and
Dallas would have to ride out into the country where Lynne's
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wife lived in hopes of tracking the man down. Brandon knew!
he could damage the case if Lynne could prove harassment,
but something was driving him to confront the man himself,
and without knowing exactly why, he knew he must carry on.
"Is it routine to starve the prisoners?" Smokey asked her
cellmate in a small voice as the second morning of her captivity
dawned
"They say it keeps us
weak and easy to 'andle," the other
woman told her. Smokey's heart sank.
They had done very little speaking since Smokey had
arrived, mainly because the other woman seemed to sleep a
great deal of the time.
Even though Smokey was still in a state of shock, she was
aware enough to believe that the woman across from her was
dying right before her very eyes. There was water every day
from a bucket in the corner, but neither she nor Smokey had
been given anything to eat since Smokey arrived. Smokey was
hungry; the other woman was starving.
"Every other day," the other woman went on in a whisper,
as though talking took more energy than she could spare.
"They brings bread every other day."
Suddenly the other woman's words became clear. As
Smokey had been pushed into the cell, she said it was her turn.
Smokey understood now that her cellmate had gone extra
days without food since they were not yet ready to feed the
newest resident of Klink Prison.
What kind of place is this, Smokey asked herself not for the
first time, that they starve people to death? Smokey could think
of no crime so heinous as to deserve this.
The morning stretched on. Just when she thought she
would go mad for want of food, a light appeared from somewhere
down the cavern. It hurt her eyes as it neared, but she
forced herself to look anyway, hope pounding in her breast.
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/ Two men appeared, one carrying a bucket and cups, the
other a basket of loaves. Keys jingled, and the cell door was
opened Two loaves of bread were thrown in, and cups of
some type of gruel were scooped up and set just inside the
door before it was slammed shut again.
Smokey scrambled for the bread as fast as she could move,
cramming it into her mouth in a frenzy, but the other woman
stayed her movement.
"Easy, go easy, child, or lt*ll make ya sick."
Smokey stopped in midchew and forced herself to calm
down. She reached for the other loaf and set it beside the
other woman's pallet.
The woman's laugh was low and had a rusty sound to it.
"Ya must be something special when yer not in 'ere. Anyone
else in this 'ole would 'ave eaten 'em both."
Smokey moved to the cups then and ignoring her own,
took one to the other pallet. She held it while the old woman
took a sip and left it within reach next to the bread
Her hand shook so violently as she drank from her own
cup that she nearly spilled the contents. The gruel was thin
